intwined
by ipodder
Summary: In the end, it doesn't matter if she knows touch and he breathes words, because it doesn't make them love each other any less. Brooke/Julian One-shot, inspired by 7x02.


Brooke Davis loves Julian Baker, she really does. But sometimes, she feels out of her depth, awkward, like she's been singled out of this world, of _romance _for too long, and now that it's here, she finds it hard to find her groove.

She loves him, but she doesn't really know _how to_ love him in the way he deserves, the way she thinks he _wants to be. _Sometimes, she wonders if it's better to be off alone, than to constantly keep second guessing herself, but then he turns to grin at her and whispers that he loves her.

And she melts all over again, like she's always done, without fail, _with him._

It's the way she's wired, she figures. She can no longer blame her insecurities on the fragile relationship with her mother, and it seems misplaced to point to her _friendliness _back in high school as a source to her insecurities, because let's face it, _everybody wanted her_.

She's Brooke Davis, stunning, striking, charming and talented. But relationships aren't her forte.

_Words _aren't really her forte actually, despite being excessively gibberish as a teenager, and as an overexcited tipsy adult, despite being able to earn a chuckle or two at the dinner table and being extremely creative with insults and nicknames, she's usually at lost with meaningful words and heart warming declarations.

It comes down to the matter of _love languages, _really. The only way she knows how to express her devotion, is through touch, through a wink as a subsitute for subtle flirtation, a smooth caress on Julian's thigh as a teasing, a kiss with a little bit of herself given to him as a _promise_. It's just the way she is, but she knows that despite her alluring _physical talents_, there's a small part of Julian that wants to hear her shout out at the top of her lungs, on a random street or at the roof of her clothing store, that she _absolutely freaking loves him_.

When you're in love, you learn to accommodate. But she's not familiar with this new language and feels a little awkward, embarrassed even, to speak something she's hardly fluent in.

She remembers Julian's face when he told her a few months ago, that his mother had a heart attack and had been placed in the ICU, although he hardly sees her, Brooke understands what it's like to love and devote yourself to someone who just isn't bothered to love you back. Although she tried, telling him that she's going to _be okay_ just doesn't suffice. So she walks up to him and envelopes him into a fierce hug, and allows his damp tears to stain her silk blouse. She can offer warmth and protection, but not assurance and promise, and it feels like she's failing somehow.

Last week, they picked a fight with each other, _just because_. She blurted out that the script he's currently interested in is dull and pretentious, and he fired back that she's so shallow, she's probably only capable of appreciating 'Twilight', and after momentarily smirking at the thought of both Edward and Jacob, she raced to their bedroom and slammed the door in his face. The next morning he told her that she's the most complicated person he knew, and that her shallowness was in fact adorable, and merely only a fraction of what's _really there_, and that he loves all sides of her, and that he's sorry.

She attempted to disguise her tears and gave him a soft, lingering kiss on the cheek.

She knows it meant _forgiveness, love _and _I'm sorry too_. She thinks _he _thinks it's just her way of avoiding confrontation, and cringes internally.

But he _knows_, really, that she forgives him, loves him more than he ever thought he could be, and is sorry too.

She just doesn't know how to put it into words, he finds it adorable.

Besides, she doesn't quite have to, he already knows.

He already knows because whenever Lucas, Peyton and baby Sawyer comes over for dinner, and Peyton accidentally slips out a funny story about Lucas' tattoo, Brooke would _subconciously_, almost _effortlessly_ graze her fingers with his, as a soft reminder that yes, she does have a matching tattoo to his chinese symbol, but _he's _perminently engraved in her heart.

He also knows because whenever the awkward topic of the Brooke/Nathan sex tape is brought up, she rolls her eyes and places a delicate kiss on his neck, and snuggles up against him as the group relive their favourite high school memories.

He's _sure _and _confident_ of her love, because when he accidentally burns his finger over the dinner he was cooking for _her_, she actually tears up a little and places a loving kiss, as well as a band aid on his red blistered finger.

It didn't hurt _that _much, but he pretended that it did, so that she could place feather light kisses around his jawline when they're snuggled on the couch, eating pizza and soda, instead of a complicated cassarole and glasses of wine.

Their love, once they got over the push and pull, is in fact, rather _simple_ and effortless. It becomes a routine that he doesn't mind repeating, one he loves and enjoys reliving again and again and again.

Julian Baker is a man of words, but as with his careful pronounciation of every syllable, he doesn't throw his words away. Every speech is well rehearsed, carefully planned, with scribbled notes on the side. His _love language _is in fact, words. But that's where the similarity between him and Lucas Scott ends, unlike the blonde brooder, his words aren't a weapon, a magical hold of some sort that doesn't always amount to substance or follow through. Julian Baker's words, like the way he speaks, has _meaning _and is used solely to express his love for the stunning brunette in question.

Although she has been hurt by _words _before, with _him_, it's different.

'Brooke, babe, did we buy the coco pops yesterday?' By saying _we_, he's saying that the responsibility of simple household chores that she loathes shouldn't just fall on her, it's _their _house now, and this means he is _willing _to share their responsibilities equally. It's not just a _woman's _job.

It's the requirements of a _relationship._ Of a growing foundation.

When she's upset with something, whether it be a snarky comment on a blog, the way her hair looks without the morning ritual wash, or even seemingly trivial things like missing the first ten minutes of her favourite tv show, he soothes her nerves with mumbles and mutters and she kisses him until she forgets. He apologizes for things that aren't really his fault; if only he drove a little faster from the store, she wouldn't have to wait for midnight re-runs, if he closed the window on his macbook two seconds closer, then she wouldn't have gotten upset over the snarky review.

She knows those things are beyond his control, his love for her just transcends all things uncontrollable. He loves her _his _way. He's decisive and firm, and doesn't worry about the same things she does; although she does love and cherish him above all things, she's also worried about _how_ to love him right.

Again, it comes down to the matter of _love languages_. He understands _her _world, but she's shying away from _his._

Brooke Davis _shows _and _expresses_ her love. Although she may be percieved as the slut who sleeps around, it was merely the only way she knew _how _to express a liking, adoration.

But with _love feelings_, she feels like her touch isn't quite _enough_.

Although Julian Baker assures her with _his_ language, time and time again, that it _is_.

Brooke Davis thought that Julian Baker was invincible. There was a moment in time when she thought that there was _nothing _he couldn't do. Anyone who could wait so patiently and tenderly chipped away at her walls, piece by piece was a pretty _epic _person. Brooke sees her boyfriend as _epic_, but she would never ever say so, it's not her language to speak.

So when Julian tells her about his father, and the _real _reason behind that ugly poster that contrasted with the entire colour tone of _their _house, it actually _breaks _her heart to hear that the confident man in front of her, one that she idolizes, is in fact a vulnerable, shy _boy_ who is _still _silently begging to be loved.

It seems like they have more in common than they see; their strong love towards each other motivated by the utter failures of the generation before them.

As she comforts him the way she knows, taking his larger hand in hers, she realizes somehow for the first time that they're in fact, _intwined. _

So she takes that as an incentive to cross the boundaries of what she knows and what she's familiar with.

Her talk with Paul Norris was an act of love she's never committed before. She loved Lucas Scott in ways she never thought possible, when she was seventeen, but she never once thought of reminding Dan of his mistskes. With Julian, she feels like it's her responsibility to keep him safe, like it's what she _needs_ to do. Without his strength, she'd be lost, so in a way, by giving _him _strength, or attempting to fix his broken-ness, she can manage to keep herself afloat too.

If he's not happy, she doesn't know if she'll ever _want _to be happy again.

So whilst she's _fighting his battle_ for him, she realizes right then and there, that it doesn't matter really, if their love language contradicts, because she's _trying_ now, to use words, although not directed at him, to convey her devotion and care.

In the end, it doesn't matter if she knows _touch_ and he breathes _words_, because it doesn't make them love each other any less. If anything, Brooke's attempt at understanding _his _dialect proves just how much she loves him.

'Brooke, I don't need _you _to fight my battles for me, okay? God, I'm a grown man. I don't need my girlfriend to defend me to my _daddy_!'

Although a lesser man would feel slightly, and perhaps understandably emasculated by the act. He knows that it hurts Brooke to see him hurt, and he couldn't expect to tell her that story without assuming that she'll just meekly stand on the sidelines. It just shames him, somehow, that she may not see him as her _protector _anymore.

The hurt was reflected in her shaky eyes, and he instantly felt like an ass. He takes a firm step forward and engulfs her in a fierce hug, of apology, of love, of _thanks_. He mutters apologies into her hair, while her grip on his shoulders tighten. 'I just, I didn't want to be _weak _with you Brooke. But he, my dad couldn't even remember that day, he told me.' He's crying now, the few tears that escaped his lids only minutes before has turned into proper tears. Tears that Brooke usually sheds for _him._

Tightening her hold on him, her heart breaking _yet _swelling at the same time over his trust in her, to be able to let her in behind the grown man he is now, to the young boy he used to be. If she knew him then, maybe she wouldn't have been so broken.

'You can be weak with me, you can be _anything _you want with me, you know that?' Her voice was affirmative, commanding even. 'I _love _you okay? And that means I love you as _you_, all the perfections, weaknesses, flaws, all of it.'

He nods into the crook of her neck, breathing in the warm musk of honey and vanilla, not even attempting to salvage any ounce of masculinity he thought he may have lost.

Right then, they're _intwined. _

It's been a week or two since then. They're lying in bed, she's resting her head on his strong chest, drawing lazy, yet loving patterns on his white t shirt. It's 3am, she guesses, by the silence of everything, but she doesn't feel tired. She doesn't want to fall asleep sleep without him. They're in sync in every way, and if he's having a case of insomnia tonight, then she's willing to stick it out with him, even if she'll have to use more concealor than normal tomorrow.

_That's _her sacrifice.

He presses a kiss to her head, and softly makes his way to her lips, earning a throaty moan of appreciation from her. As his tongue softly caresses hers, she giggles and gently pushes him away.

' I just want to lie here like this tonight, please?'

He feels so _male _for even alluding to that, and he complies by pressing another soft kiss on her lips and drawing her body even closer to his, their limbs _tangling_ and _intwining_ with each other.

They're similar, yet vastly different, but they just fit. There's no explanation really, no clear reasons. They just _are. _They _fit_.

_Love languages _be damned, it sets them apart, yet draws them together. They may speak differently, but their _ideas _are the same.

They _love_ just fiercely.

Her voice interrupts his almost slumber, 'you know, I would let you hang up twenty ugly posters of movies I've never seen, if it makes you happy.'

He chuckles, 'and I would give up my dvd storage so you could have more space to organize your shoes'.

She smirks and settles on his chest, content with their negotiation.

That's what love is, she's sure of it now. There's no _right _way of loving Julian Baker, what's important is that she _does. _ She may have learnt the concept of sacrifice, giving, receiving and other things in between, but the non complicated nature of _them _really just lies in the fact that she loves him, in every way he _can _be loved.


End file.
